


And They Were Roommates (Oh My God)

by a_static_world



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, BAMF Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Bisexual Disaster Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Miscommunication, Modern Era, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Roommates, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, oh my god they were roommates, pierced jaskier, tattooed geralt, the tropiest trope to ever trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_static_world/pseuds/a_static_world
Summary: “Get over yourself; you need a roommate, he just moved here. It’ll be fine-fun, even.”“Easy for you to say.”Unfortunately, Geralt did need a roommate. Eskel moved out a month ago, and with his shitty barista salary he struggled to pay full rent alone.Yennefer sets Jaskier up as Geralt's new roomie. Geralt isn't pleased (until he is)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 244





	And They Were Roommates (Oh My God)

“Get over yourself; you need a roommate, he just moved here. It’ll be fine-fun, even.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Unfortunately, Geralt did need a roommate. Eskel moved out a month ago, and with his shitty barista salary he’d been struggling to pay full rent alone. However, he was  _ not  _ about to walk cock-first into another one of Yennefer’s schemes. He didn’t even know this-  _ Julian _ , was it? Yen had described him as  _ tall and chatty _ . Which, to Geralt, sounded like nearly his worst nightmare in the world. 

He glanced up from his phone, wincing as Yen’s purple contacts bored deep into his soul. He didn’t know why she wore them, and never asked; maybe to fucking scare the shit out of people. Or harass her friends into contracting a roommate they didn’t know at all, whatsoever. She raised a single, perfectly manicured and immaculately slitted eyebrow, and-

“Christ, fine. But I’m meeting him before he signs.”

“Fine by me, Gary-boy. See you after your shift?”

Geralt only grunted as she swept out the door. She’d come here, into his place of work, to berate him into accepting a stranger into his home, and hadn’t even touched her (perfectly brewed, balanced, showstopping) oat-milk latte. Geralt shrugged, downing it before propping his elbows on the counter and squinting at their announcements board.  _ Concert, lost dog, lost cat, lost...goldfish? _

The door jangled, rudely interrupting his brood, and Geralt’s feet found their way to the register without thinking. Paste on the customer service smile, nod attentively as you punch in the order (iced caramel latte, extra syrup. disgusting). Look up at the customer, come face-to-face with an  _ incredibly _ gorgeous man rocking both a lip and tongue piercing,  _ christ. _ Swipe card, go make drink so fast. 

He might be setting the new record time for caramel-latte making, ever. Geralt’s hands flew over the machines, pouring and mixing and, yes, burning himself. Man, you could paint the sky with those eyes. Huh. 

“Uhhh, caramel latte for...Jass-ker?”

The man looked only slightly displeased as he claimed his cup, snagging the drink and squinting at the writing on the side.

“Ever heard of a Nordic J, buddy? Pronounced like a y. Yas-kee-er, thank you very much.”

Geralt, holding on to his last vestiges of sanity, turned fully around to roll his eyes ( and ignore the man currently moaning into his coffee). Whatever. His eyes may be a shade of blue Geralt’s never seen before, but he’s an asshole. Geralt makes good coffee, even rushed, and so what if he mispronounces a name or two? Honestly, what kind of name even is  _ Jaskier _ . Sounds made up and pretentious as hell. The man reeked of film-school superiority, and Geralt startled upon seeing him still standing there when he turned back around.

“Thanks for this, ah,  _ Gegalt. _ Just what I needed this morning. I’ve got a meeting later, and I really don’t think I would make it without this.”

Fucking.  _ Gegalt. _

“Of course,  _ Jassker _ . Hope everything works out.” He grit out, shoving open the door of the break room and pointedly shutting it, drowning out the sound of that stupid fucking bell. Geralt was no stranger to awful customers; before this job, he’d worked mall security, and god _ damn _ could people be downright shitty. He’d dealt with drunks, druggies, suburban mothers demanding his manager (of which he didn’t have), and children who thought it’d be fun to hold lit pieces of paper under smoke detectors.

Never before had he met someone so entirely and purposefully irritating.

His nametag said fucking Geralt, for god’s sake, in large block letters. And it wasn’t like he’d  _ meant _ to say Jaskier wrong.  _ Nordic J, my ass. _ Preppie, boarding-school type. Trust-fund baby, with fancy clothes and daddy’s credit card.  _ Christ _ \- the man had paid and left.  _ Get over it _ , Yen’s voice reminded him. So he pushed the door back open, turned the indie band playing on his speaker a little higher, and started to wash up.

Yennefer, ever punctual, showed up at five on the dot. Waltzing in and settling at the bar, she propped her chin on her fist and stared at Geralt, who was currently occupied by wiping the counters down, thank you very much. She continued to just...look, eyes following Geralt wherever he went, like one of those creepy perspective paintings. 

“What is it, Yennefer.”

“You seem tense, darling. Another Karen?”

“Mmm, worse. Trust-fund baby with the most ridiculous name I’ve ever heard. Get this- he got mad at me for spelling it wrong, and then tried to tell me about the-”

Geralt cut off as Mr. Nordic J himself pushed through the door, glaring as the other man grinned at Yennefer. 

“We’re closed.”

“Sign doesn’t say so. Also, I’m here on business, big-bad, and she instructed me to be here at this time. Wait-”

His eyes widened, mouth dropping open as he turned from Geralt (not getting any less pissed, thanks) to a smirking Yen. Geralt caught on about a half second later. 

“Yennefer. No. Please, anyone but him-”

“-tried to tell me about the  _ nordic j, _ Yen, come  _ on-” _

Yennefer held up a hand, cutting through their simultaneous streams of anger. She was  _ laughing _ , for fuck’s sake, and Geralt felt about three seconds from shoving them both out the door, locking up, and going the fuck home to sleep it off. 

“Boys. Geralt, meet Julian. Julian, Geralt.”

“We’ve met.” Julian-Jaskier seemed just as peeved as Geralt, looking like a bird with its feathers all ruffled up. No fucking  _ way _ Geralt could open his home to this snob. He turned to Yennefer, softening his eyes in a way he knew would be about 70% ineffective. He only needed the 30%, really. They’d been friends for eight years; he knew how to break her down. 

“Okay, boys, dicks away, the pissing contest is over. Geralt, darling, you are in desperate need of a roomie. Julian-”

“ _ Jaskier _ .”

Yen rolled her eyes.

“Fine.  _ Jaskier _ just moved from out of town, and needs a place to stay. Now, are we going to be big boys about this, or are we going to have to move you both back in with your mommies?”

Geralt winced, surprised to see Jaskier doing the same. Okay, common ground. Though, he wouldn’t exactly call mommy issues a good first topic of conversation.  _ Hi, how are you, what’s your standing relationship with your mother? _ Christ, he was sharing an apartment with the guy, not taking in a therapist. He breathed, realizing he’d both been white-knuckling the counter and staring down the other man. Yen’d always said he looked intimidating, and here he stood, proving her right.  _ Can’t have that.  _ Geralt shook out his hands, settling back and flicking his gaze to Yennefer. 

“Fine. But only because I literally cannot work any more hours, full stop. House rules are on the contract-” he flicked his head to one of the tables, where the papers lay, “-along with rent amount, liabilities, and landlord info.”

Jaskier nodded, and Geralt ignored the way the man’s eyes trailed up his bicep, following his tattoo to where it curled behind his ear and met his hair. It’d been a spur-of-the-moment, drunken decision; his brothers had opted for wolf silhouettes on their ribs (cowards, the both of them). 

Geralt, in true (as Yen said)  _ dramatic bitch _ fashion, had chosen to wrap an old Polish fairy-tale around his arm, tracking it from wrist all the way up to behind his ear. He’d never regretted it; the story held the one good memory he had of his mother, and he always had something to read when he got bored. 

Geralt finished wiping down the espresso machine and turned just in time to catch the pen Jaskier lobbed at his head.  _ Jesus, Mary, and Joseph _ . He snarled, barely feeling the hand Yennefer placed on his arm as he vaulted the counter. Jaskier grinned when Geralt shoved up into his space, looking not even  _ close  _ to as intimidated as Geralt wanted him to be. 

“Let’s get something straight-”

“Well, I’m not. See you at home, then, Gegalt dear.”

And oh, didn’t Geralt just about see red. The infernal goddamn bell was the only indication that the other man had left. Yennefer sighed, clasping a hand to his shoulder and swaying him back and forth. 

“Jaw, shoulders, ass, darling.”

Geralt breathed. An old trick, both to remind him to relax his tension spots and get him to laugh off whatever was making him tense. He didn’t laugh, not this time, but he managed to roll his shoulders back down and crack his neck before turning to face his witch of a best friend. 

“You’re a bastard, Yennefer, truly.”

The woman only pressed a hand to her heart and fluttered her eyelashes melodramatically. 

“Aww, you mean that? Touching, Gary. Now come on; Julian’s got a U-Haul waiting and  _ we  _ are the only ones with keys to your place.”

_ How can one goddamn person have so much stuff. _

Seriously. Jaskier’s truck looked like he’d moved a small family out instead of just himself, and Geralt told him as much. He was met, of course, with a sarcastic rebuttal, and the feeling that he could actually get  _ used _ to the banter. Christ. His unease was replaced by utter joy, however, when Jaskier realized-

“There’s no bed here, big-bad.”

“Hmm. Eskel must’ve taken his. The couch pulls out- you can sleep there until we can get to an Ikea.”

_ We??? _

“Ugh. Very well, I guess. It’s not the first time I’ve had to couch-surf.”

Geralt felt his brows furrow, not even bothering to hide his confusion. When had this boarding-school bastard ever had to  _ couch-surf _ ? He shook his head, brushing past Yen on his way to grab another box. His eyes landed on a guitar case, tucked towards the back of the truck and cushioned with several bags of clothing. Some small, rapidly-shrinking part of his conscience told him to not get involved, keep contact to a minimum, but Geralt found himself snagging the sticker-covered case and a bag of clothes anyway. 

Jaskier brightened when Geralt walked back in, making grabby hands (ugh) for the case and treating it with such reverence that Geralt almost (almost!) wondered if he should’ve treated it more carefully himself. Whatever. He swore he heard the man  _ cooing  _ over the instrument as he hauled the clothes into Eskel’s old room. He set the bag down next to Yen, who had her hands on her hips, surveying the layout as it slowly filled in. 

“Geralt, help me push that dresser. Bed there, dresser, desk over there.”

By the time Geralt pushed the dresser in question into a position Yennefer deemed appropriate, Jaskier had nearly emptied the truck. Once all the boxes were in the apartment, though, there really wasn’t as much as Geralt thought. Shockingly little, for someone whose cologne smelled like their daddy had money. By midnight they’d nearly unpacked it all, Yennefer leaving at 10 to meet her girlfriend for dinner. And, oh boy, was Geralt fucking  _ exhausted. _ His AC had been broken for months, so he’d absolutely soaked through his shirt, and he’d taken opening shift at 6 tomorrow. 

“Think you can manage the rest? I’m opening tomorrow, so...”

“Oh! Yes. Go ahead, please don’t stay up on my account. I’ll probably hit the couch before too long.”

Geralt made it halfway to the bathroom, shucking off his shirt in the hallway out of habit before he heard Jaskier clear his throat.

“Uh, Geralt? Thank you.”

Geralt nodded, too fucking tired to form a proper sentence. He grunted vaguely before shutting the bathroom door, not even bothering with the lights as he fumbled for the shower knob. Seven minutes later he all but fell out, stumbling into his bedroom and somehow managing to drag a sheet over his body before passing out. 

5:00 rang sharp and shrill in his ears  _ far  _ too soon. Geralt groaned, sliding his body off of his bed and onto the floor. Work out, shower, dress, eat, out the door by 5:45 in time to open at 6. He knew the routine by heart, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he strode into the living room to see Jaskier asleep on the couch. Fuck him, he’d forgotten. Geralt walked (albeit much quieter than he had been) to the closet, slipping on his Docs and helmet before sneaking out the door.

He should probably leave a key, he supposed, as he started Roach (his motorcycle, a barely-legal piece of junk he refused to get rid of). Eh. Jaskier would be fine; he could spend the day unpacking and learning the house. The other man quickly lost space in his mind as Geralt settled in for a day of pouring and blending and smiling until his jaw ached.

Geralt unlocked the door, a wave of spicy, fucking  _ delicious _ smelling air hitting him across the face. Some type of curry, and he nearly moaned at the thought of it. It’d been far too long since he’d come home to anything but a frozen meal, or maybe a salad of sorts with whatever was in his fridge. Maybe having Jaskier around wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Ah- Geralt! Just in time. Your fridge held an abysmal amount of nothing, except for chicken and beer and one, single onion. Your spice cupboard, however, is  _ immaculate _ .”

Geralt managed a smile, this time, dipping his head in the other man’s direction before heading for the bathroom. Once showered and in clean, soft clothes that weren’t covered in coffee and various coffee accoutrements, he emerged into the dining room to find the table set. Christ, maybe he’d misjudged the guy. If he could make curry from nothing but some chicken, an onion, and various spices, well. Geralt was far from immune to roommate propaganda. 

“Et voila- Curry a la Geralt’s Sad Fridge. Enjoy!”

They ate in silence, and Geralt had to bite back yet another groan at the taste. Okay, so Jaskier  _ definitely  _ had some pros to him. 

“Oh, Geralt, I was wondering if you had a spare key? Only I’m going out with some, ah, old friends, tonight, and getting locked out won’t exactly be good for either of us.”

“I don’t, but you can take mine for tonight, and I’ll get a spare made tomorrow.”

Jaskier beamed from across the table, moving his hand in what may have been a (quickly aborted) reach to pat Geralt’s forearm. Good. Geralt couldn’t be called tactile by  _ any _ stretch of the imagination, and he can barely tolerate Yennefer’s hugs on a good day. Better not let this literal, actual stranger get too comfortable. He’ll be gone before long, in all likelihood, and Yen would set him up with another.  _ C’est la vie _ , as she would say. 

Of course, just as he’d fallen asleep, freshly departed from the limbo of pre-sleep and really settled in,  _ that _ is precisely when Jaskier chose to slam through the door. And, god fucking save him, he had company, judging by the sounds currently echoing in from the living room. Geralt sighed, reaching down the side of his bed for his headphones. He preferred to sleep with white noise, anyway, and as Jaskier now paid rent, he couldn’t exactly complain. 

But good lord above, they were  _ loud.  _ Not even Hozier himself could drown out the groaning and whimpering, the sounds seemingly bypassing the music altogether. Geralt cracked an eye, wincing as his phone screen burnt his fucking corneas off. 3:48 AM. Wonderful. Old friend, his ass. Yennefer would be receiving a carefully worded phone-call as soon as it reached an acceptable hour to do so. 

For now, Geralt could only boost up “In a Week” and close his eyes. Maybe, if God chose to pity him, he’d get a few more hours of sleep before he had to get up. He and God had a fickle relationship, however, and thus every fucking squeak of the springs on that damn couch cut straight to his eardrums. 

“Hey, Siri. Remind me to google noise cancelling earplugs tomorrow.”

“Setting a reminder to ogle noise coming ear bugs for tomorrow.”

God Jesus in Heaven Above, Christ have fucking mercy, holy shit. Hopefully tired Geralt could parse that one out.  _ Guess I’ll see _ . 

Jaskier, somehow, woke at the same time as Geralt, bright-eyed and humming like he hadn't been railing some stranger on what Geralt still very much considered  _ his  _ pull-out couch. God, he’d have to wash it, sanitize the thing (can one wash a full mattress?). Disgusting, honestly. They’d barely known each other for a full two days and Jaskier had already taken advantage of his lease agreement. He hoped to  _ God _ this wouldn’t happen regularly; Geralt’s sleep schedule teetered on the slim edge of not enough to work a full shift, and he  _ really  _ didn’t need a nightly disruption. 

To clarify, he didn’t have anything against the sex, or even the fact that it had obviously been another man joining Jaskier last night. Really, he didn’t. Just the noise, that’s all. Geralt chalked the roiling in his gut up to bad sleep and eating too early and dove into his shitty barista job with the passion of a newly-hired teenager. 

However, apparently no amount of bean-grinding can erase the sound of your new roommate moaning like a pornstar a room away.

He called Yen on his break, after ordering noise-cancelling earplugs off of Amazon for $12.99 and taking a moment to curse both Jeff Bezos and the entire ideology of capitalism. 

“Geralt. Break-time-rant-time?”

God bless Yennefer.

“Uh, sort of.”

He felt...better, marginally, having explained the whole situation to a third party. 

“I mean, I’m not uncomfortable with it. God, if I bring it up, is that, like, homophobic? I’m not a homophobe, I don’t think. Can you be bi and a homophobe?”

“Trust me, darling, you’re about as far from a homophobe as one can be. Open communication is best. Love you!”

He hung up with a muttered  _ love you too _ , scrubbing a hand over his face. At least Jaskier wasn’t a mass murderer, or a serial rapist, or any other horrifying thing humanity seemed to produce. As far as he knew.  _ Christ, man, get your head out of the bin _ . Four more hours left on his shift, and maybe he’d pick up an air mattress on the way home. An olive branch before the confrontation. 

__

He did end up stopping at Walmart for a mattress, buying the five-dollar-est one he could find and also copying his key at the kiosk. He chose a galaxy pattern, hoping Jaskier even marginally liked space. Really, who could be against  _ space _ ? The final frontier, no-one to hear you scream and all that. Mmm, solitude. God, Jaskier probably believed the ocean more worth exploring than space (Geralt felt perfectly fine leaving the abyss monsters to themselves, thank you very much). Geralt’s mind hummed, not just from road noise but with possibility.

What if Jaskier’s mystery man showed up while Geralt was at work? What if Geralt came home to them fucking? Jesus, hearing it had been bad enough; he didn’t know if he could stomach seeing it. Each mile closer to home knocked his adrenaline up a level, and by the time he swung off of Roach he felt quite distinctly like that one Eminem song.  _ Knees weak, arms are heavy _ . He hadn’t quite reached  _ vomit on his sweater already _ , thankfully, and the apartment sounded quiet enough for Geralt to take a deep breath before entering and finding...nothing. He scanned the room, mattress box clenched in one hand, before his eyes caught on a bright-yellow post-it that most definitely had not come from his house.

_Gegalt,_ _I’ve gone out with an old friend of mine. Don’t expect me back until later- if you’ve copied your key, be a dear and leave it under the doormat? xx, Jaskier_

Oh, boy. Suddenly, all willingness to converse in a civil manner evaporated from Geralt’s body. He chucked the mattress onto the (oh, God,  _ stained _ ) couch-bed, yanking the door open and sliding the galaxy key roughly under the mat. He’d literally only ordered the earplugs six hours ago. It seemed another night of sleeplessness and uncomfortable, non-consensual voyeurism lay ahead. Fucking  _ wonderful.  _

After a shower and some reheated curry and no signs of Jaskier-they hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers yet, shit. He texted Yen, hoping she’d be available and also able to give him the phone number of the man he now fucking lived with, because apparently they’d been too far up their own asses (or too far up someone else’s) to bother with basic safety. If Jaskier insisted on going out and fucking every night, there needed to be  _ some _ buddy system in place. Because, you know, date rape and all that. 

_ Hey, happen to have preppie-boy’s number? _

Sure do, why?

_ He’s been going out and also I don’t have it _

Mmm. 

_ Yennefer. _

Fine. 503-555-7558

_ Thanks _

He shot Jaskier a quick text, identifying himself and saying to call if he needed to be picked up from...wherever he’d be. Friends did that, right? His phone buzzed, and Geralt picked it up far too quickly for his own pride. 

Yennski: Don’t overthink this, Gary.

Shit. If Yennefer could figure out his thoughts from across Los Angeles, then it was high time to shut the fuck down for the night. Was it currently 8 PM? Yes. Did he need all the sleep he could get before the eventual 3-AM-awakening? Also yes. Geralt brushed his teeth and shut the apartment down on autopilot, popping a melatonin and feeling his way into his bedroom. Pajamas off (discarded on the floor for him to trip over in the morning), phone plugged in, blankets over body. 

Somehow, thanks to the melatonin and possibly Jaskier realizing he now had, ah, an  _ audience _ , the fucking didn’t wake him at all. Geralt did, however, head out to work with the image of Jaskier and another man nakedly tangled and fast asleep on his sofa. Mmm, roommates. Such a savory bunch. The pattern continued, off and on, with enough irregularity that Geralt couldn’t even figure out a schedule, the upside being that Jaskier finally procured a real bed and moved his  _ operations _ to his own room. The downside? Still a thin-walled, shitty apartment. 

The earplugs also helped. 

Sometimes he’d come home to the smell of food, Jaskier brandishing a spoon or spatula and beckoning him over for a taste. They had  _ movie nights _ , during which Jaskier tended to cry at every film and shove his (fucking  _ cold _ ) feet under Geralt’s thighs. Geralt learned that Jaskier had lived in Portland his whole life but always dreamed of bursting into the music industry. Jaskier learned that Geralt loved to draw, and somehow always knew when the other man tried to covertly sketch his hands, his cheekbones, his hair. 

They fell into a rhythm over the next month, occasional bouts of domesticity interrupted by loud, casual sex on Jaskier’s part and stifled masturbation on Geralt’s. He’d rub one out in the shower after Jaskier left, trying his fucking best not to picture his fucking roommate fucking  _ him _ .  _ Not kosher. _ His last relationship had been with Yennefer, two years ago, before Yennefer realized she’d much rather be dating women and Geralt realized he wasn’t as into women as a concept as he’d convinced himself he was. 

Still, the thought of Jaskier being with another man in their apartment (somewhere along the line it had shifted from  _ his _ to  _ theirs _ ) gave Geralt the distinct feeling of very much needing to throw up but being incredibly unable to do so. Nausea all around, with something like panic clawing up his sternum. Geralt brushed it off; it was simply another thing to pack down. The nausea lessened when he remembered that Jaskier never stayed with one partner for more than two nights. Yennefer joked that he was working his way through the LA scene too fast, and would soon have to suck his own cock like the rest of them.

( Geralt would not be opposed to sucking Jaskier’s cock. For the record.)

Positively self-destructive, picturing Jaskier’s body draped over the sofa, lip between his teeth-

_ Nope _ . Not today, not in this Chili’s. Well, figurative Chili’s. Really, Geralt was half-hard, sitting on his (now mercifully clean) couch, not at all paying attention to the serial-killer documentary he’d pulled up an hour ago. Jaskier, naturally, had been out all night. He’d dropped the pretense of “seeing an old friend” around the time Geralt accidentally walked out of his room with his earplugs still in. They were both adults; they could handle the knowledge that one of them had regular, mind-blowingly loud sex while the other tried his best not to hear. 

The door slammed open, and Geralt took that as his cue to abandon the sofa and continue the documentary on his laptop. In his room. With his noise-cancelling earbuds. He’d barely made it two steps, though, before a very drunk Jaskier latched onto his wrist.

_ Well, this is fucking weird. _

Jaskier  _ never _ came home alone, much less when he’d been drinking or smoking. But now the hand on his wrist had smoothed up his forearm, settling on his elbow and holy fuck it felt like someone lit his blood on fire. He turned to see sky-blue eyes gazing up at him in a manner that could only mean one thing. Oh, god. Literally, of all the fucking ways in the world to have his roommate want to fuck him, why this one?  _ Being morally upright fucking sucks. _

“Jaskier. You can’t- not like this.”

The man pouted, flinging his arms around Geralt and burying his face in his neck and oh jesus fucking christ he might catch on literal fire right now. Spontaneous combustion is a thing, right? 

“Come on. I’m not gonna be another drunken conquest, okay? We’ll talk about this tomorrow, if you even remember any of it.”

Geralt thanked his daily workouts as he crouched, slinging Jaskier over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and carrying him to his bedroom. Jaskier mumbled as Geralt puttered around, setting a glass of water on the side table and sliding off the other man’s shoes. 

“Geralt. Stay. Please.”

Sweet mother of God. Damn his stupid, weak, gay brain for everything it had put him through thus far. Really? Of all the men in Los Angeles, this one? Who could never shut up? Who permanently stained his couch with cum and also grape juice? Who ordered the sweetest drinks whenever he visited Geralt at work just to piss him off?

Geralt stayed. 

Sliding as far as he could to the other side of the twin bed, body on top of the covers, one foot pressed to Jaskier’s so he’d know Geralt was there. That’s it, that’s physically all he could allow himself without losing all conscious thought and making many, many mistakes. God.  _ Okay, Geralt, calm down. Text Yennefer. _

_ Yennefer. Help. _

Mmmmm what the fuck

_ I’m in Jaskier’s bed _

And you’re texting me instead of getting nailed?

_ He’s drunk out of his mind and he asked me to stay and I don’t know what to do _

Well you clearly stayed. Is there an issue?

_ I am literally five seconds away from screaming _

_ He has no fucking clue what he’s doing, Yen _

I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Gary

_ And it’s not like I can talk to him about it. He won’t even remember tomorrow. _

He might when he fucking wakes up with you in his bed, dumbass

Oh, he was  _ so _ boned. And  _ not  _ in the way he wanted. Geralt set his phone on the floor and closed his eyes. Jaskier’s breathing had evened out, and he’d hooked his ankle around Geralt’s in his sleep. Which felt  _ unfairly _ fucking adorable; Jesus, if he tensed his jaw any more he’d have a cracked molar in no time. Well, another one. Working in the food business didn’t do his teeth any favors. 

Geralt woke the next morning to stiff muscles and an empty bed. The good news: he hadn’t shifted from his side of the bed. The bad news: he’d failed to wake up early enough to slip back to his own room and save them both the embarrassment. He groaned, rolling over and burying his face into the pillow. God, it even smelled like Jaskier, like honeysuckle mixed with something spicy. Geralt wanted to drown in it. 

A pan clanked in the kitchen. Jaskier would want to talk about it, he knew, and oh boy, did he feel unprepared. They don’t exactly write books on how to confess what you might think is love to your roommate who you previously hated. Unfortunately.  _ Okay. Time to face the music _ . He would accept Jaskier’s rejection, his story that it was a drunken whim, and go back to ignoring the other man’s trysts. He’d get a drink with Yen, pack down the feelings. Business as usual.

When he emerged into the kitchen, however, Jaskier beamed at him. Of course he’d be nice about it. 

“Geralt. Eggs?”

Okay. Unexpected, but to a degree that’s just how Jaskier is. All soft (hrgh) where Geralt is made of edges. 

He didn’t say anything until they were done with breakfast, and God, did Geralt wish they’d gotten it over before they ate, because his eggs and bacon somehow just turned to lead in his stomach.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry. It was unfair of me to...push my feelings onto you, like that. I’m not gonna make excuses; I understand if you want to stay somewhere else for a few days.”

Okay, uh, fuck. Either Geralt had missed the point entirely, or Jaskier just said he has feelings for Geralt.

“Uh. Run that by me one more time.”

“Fuck, Geralt, really? Are you gonna make me spell it out? I never thought you’d be cruel like this.”

“No, fuck. Sorry. I think we feel the same way, but we’re pretty fucking bad at communicating.”

Jaskier grinned, scoffing.

“Excuse you, I am fucking  _ wonderful _ at communicating. All those times I shoved my feet under your thighs? That’s how I, as the kids say, shoot my shot.”

“So, terrible. Anyway, do you happen to be free tonight?”

Jaskier opened his mouth to answer, but-

“Hello, boys. Have we finally gotten our heads out of our asses, then?”

Oh, he  _ so _ regretted giving Yennefer a key to his apartment. 

“This is an abuse of power, Yennski.”

She scowled at the nickname, Jaskier looking positively  _ delighted _ . To Geralt’s horror, Yennefer sat, pulling his half-eaten plate towards herself and striking up a conversation with Jaskier. Yeah, key privileges were officially going to be revoked. She stayed for the better part of an hour, claiming she had to wait until her girlfriend got off her shift to go pick her up, and their apartment just  _ happened _ to be on the way. Finally (Geralt had all but burned alive), her phone went off, in a tone that sounded suspiciously like a One Direction song.

Not that Geralt would know.

“Okay, boys, duty calls. I’ll get out of your way so you can upset your neighbors.” Oh, she just  _ had _ to wink at him, didn’t she. He’d get back at her, but he found himself rapidly occupied with a lapful of Jaskier the second Yennefer shut the door. 

“Sorry, Jask-  _ mpfh, ngk _ -”

Jaskier tasted like coffee and bacon and Geralt didn’t care one bit. He couldn’t form much of a thought, period, at the moment. Because Jaskier had angled his head  _ just so _ , and wrapped his thighs around Geralt’s waist, and he  _ squeezed _ and oh, Christ, he could die now. He could die happy (and also come) from just this. Also,  _ Jaskier has a smiley piercing.  _ That- fucking  _ hot, _ is what that was. 

Geralt pulled back, tipping his head into the hand Jaskier had threaded in his hair. He scanned the other man’s face, breathing heavily and hoping, desperately, that this wouldn’t just be another night (day, rather), that Jaskier hadn’t somehow fucked all of LA and made his way back to Geralt. 

“Earth to Gegalt. I can practically  _ hear _ you thinking, darling, and trust me. This isn’t another one of my, ah,  _ dalliances _ . I fully intend to make this one stick, if you’ll let me.”

Oh, that earned him another kiss (or three). Jaskier shifted in his lap, letting out a breathy whine that passed straight from Geralt’s eardrums to his cock. So, naturally, he shifted Jaskier on his lap again, both for some kind of friction and to revel in the fact that  _ he _ could make the man sound like  _ that _ . 

“If you want to take this slow, I’m game, but at the moment we have  _ two _ incredibly empty bedrooms, if you’re so inclined.”

“Mmm. Kiss me again.”

Jaskier complied, tugging at Geralt’s hair as he hoisted them both out of the chair. His feet traced the path to his own bedroom automatically; Yen would say something about it being symbolic of changing Jaskier’s pattern, but Geralt sure as fucking hell would  _ not  _ be thinking of Yennefer in the bedroom. Not when Jaskier (too briefly) had his earlobe between his teeth, mouthing down his jawline and tugging insistently at his shirt. 

Jaskier slid (oh, god, so slowly) down his body, pulling Geralt’s shirt all the way off as soon as his feet hit the floor. Geralt returned the favor, unbuttoning all of three buttons before giving up and half pulling, half shaking Jaskier out of it. He was breathless, from kissing and laughing and sheer fucking _ want _ . This was insane,  _ he _ had to be positively clinical, now, because Jaskier had pushed him onto the bed, undoing his jeans and yanking them down with a swiftness that Geralt’s lust-foggy brain had trouble keeping up with.

“Shit,  _ fuck,  _ Jaskier,”

_ Mouth on cock feel good.  _

Geralt desperately attempted to stop his hips jerking in response, fisting a hand in the bedsheets like that could anchor him. Jaskier moaned around his, ah,  _ mouthful _ , which did not help the current situation of “trying not to choke your prospective romantic partner out with your dick” but  _ did _ feel fucking incredible. He kept doing things with his tongue (and piercing) that Geralt couldn’t fathom, and he firmly pushed all thoughts of Jaskier’s practice out of his brain. 

It took him an  _ embarrassingly _ short time to come. And when Jaskier looked up, all tear-bright eyes and messy-mouth grin, Geralt found himself overwhelmed with the desire to repay the man in kind. 

It’d been a while, if he was honest, since he’d done this, but it seemed to be the same principle as riding a bike. Once you learn to take dick deep down your throat, you can never unlearn it. Thank  _ God _ for that particular skill, because Jaskier was not small by any, ah,  _ stretch _ of the imagination. The sounds he made were music to Geralt’s ears, and Jaskier was about as quiet as his dick was small. 

Far too soon they were both spent and panting, Jaskier half on top of Geralt and tracing over his tattoo (and oh, Jesus, he’d apparently been too touch-starved for too long, because he felt like  _ purring _ ). 

“You’re a wretch of a man, you know that?”

_ Uhhhhhh _ . 

“Mmm?”

“Not even taking me to dinner first. Shameful, really.”

_ Oh, thank God. _

“I tried, didn’t I?  _ I  _ remember a certain musician getting a little hasty as soon as we were alone.”

Geralt smiled as Jaskier pulled closer, burying his nose in the other man’s curls. 

“I offered to go slow, Gegalt. But I don’t regret...this.”

“Mmm, that makes two of us, then. Breakfast tomorrow?”

Jaskier had fallen asleep, but Geralt had a feeling he already knew the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> ohhhh boooooyyy  
> coming bacc at you with a modern au with a little added roommates flair. as a treat  
> original idea ripped from that article that was like "I didn't like the thought of my roommate kissing guys, but I'm not homophobic, I just want him to be kissing me instead."  
> [oddconstellation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoddconstellationofthoughts) is, as always, my sounding board and title genius  
> come talk to me on [tumblr](https://astaticworld.tumblr.com/), where all I do is scream about joey batey hurting me  
> I hope you are all staying safe and doing good in the world <3


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